


Thanksgiving Traditions

by Dbaw3



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Really a lot of spanking, Spanking, hole spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 08:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dbaw3/pseuds/Dbaw3
Summary: It's Thanksgiving at the Stilinski household, and there's a halftime tradition all the guys look forward to.





	Thanksgiving Traditions

It was a strange Stilinski family tradition, but it had been in place since before Scott could remember. Every year, after dinner and during half-time of the big game, Stiles and John would go upstairs, and after a minute or two, all the male guests would follow. 

Scott remembered the first time he’d been allowed to participate, around the age of 16, walking into the Sheriff’s bedroom to see his best friend, bent over the bed naked, his asscheeks already pink.

It was the same now as he filed into the room with Peter, Derek, Isaac, and Chris, and the Sheriff said the words Scott had heard every year:

“Alright, he’s all warmed up for you guys. Remember, first one who gets Stiles to come from the spanking gets his Thanksgiving wish. Also, you get Stiles in your lap for the rest of the game.”

Chris, who had never been a part of this ritual before, looked perplexed, but Scott also noticed his pants were starting to tent slightly like the rest of them. 

“You get five spanks per person,” the Sheriff continued going through the rules. “If Stiles doesn’t climax, the next person gets a go, and we go through until everyone’s had a shot. If no one wins in the first round, we start over with the first person.

“Remember, you can’t touch his dick or penetrate him, but all else is fair game.”

“C’mon, Dad,” Stiles said over his shoulder, wiggling his ass at the room-at-large. “They know all this. Let’s go!”

“Pipe down, kiddo,” John said, ruffling his hair and giving the pink ass a light tap. “You know the rules, but Chris doesn’t.”

Chris seemed to snap out of his trance when he heard his name, and cleared his throat. “So, Stiles can…climax from this?” he asked.

Stiles looked back at him, and Scott noticed he and his dad had identical smirks on their face. 

“Yeah, definitely,” John reassured him.

“Our Stiles loves to have his little ass reddened,” Peter said, not even trying to hide how hard he was in his pants, even blatantly rubbing himself at the prospect of taking Stiles over his knee.

“Okay, as usual, youngest goes first, so Isaac, have at it,” John directed.

Isaac nervously walked up and sat on the bed, directing Stiles to lay across his lap.

“Remember,” the Sheriff instructed, “don’t let him rub off on you. Make sure his dick isn’t touching anything.”

Isaac nodded distractedly, even as he felt underneath Stiles to make sure his still mostly soft penis was dangling free, even while Stiles muttered at his dad, “It was just the one time.”

Scott watched critically with the rest as Isaac laid down what were definitely far too soft swats on Stiles’ ass. It wasn’t bad for only Isaac’s second Thanksgiving, Scott thought, and told him as much, patting him on the shoulder encouragingly when he got up from his seat, Stiles standing not-so-patiently for his next spanker.

“Scott,” the Sheriff said, indicating he should go next, and Scott took his place.

As he arranged Stiles across his lap, he knew it was unlikely anyone would win the game during the first round. No one was ever even really trying the first round, and depending on how many of them there were–in the early days, it was just John and Scott and maybe a deputy or two who didn’t have anywhere else to be on Thankgiving–it could be several rounds before Stiles got worked up enough to actually be close to climax. 

Scott laid down a single spank, much harder than any Isaac had given, and felt Stiles jolt forward with it. 

Scott really did want to win this year. He thought he’d been close last year, but Peter had managed to edge everyone else out, making Stiles come from three particularly brutal spanks to the underside of his cheeks. He’d also obviously enjoyed having Stiles bouncing on his hard cock for the second half of the football game. And despite most of his comments about Peter the rest of the year, Stiles had obviously enjoyed it too, eventually sobbing at the end from dry orgasms, even though Peter had neither touched Stiles’ dick nor permitted Stiles to touch himself the entire time. 

But Stiles had told him a little secret that, while maybe made it was technically cheating to know, might give him the edge towards winning this year.

Scott finished up his five spanks, hard but mostly routine, before Stiles rolled to his feet letting him stand.

“Derek,” John said.

Scott watched Derek move to the bed and arrange Stiles across his lap as if he weighed nothing. Stiles had confessed to him that, at least on Thanksgiving, he did love the werewolves being able to lift and arrange him as if he weighed nothing.

Derek was surprisingly hesitant with Stiles, light slaps that barely added any color his cheeks, but when Stiles went to stand, Scott saw Derek say something into Stiles’ ear which not even his werewolf hearing could pickup. Whatever he said, though, made Stiles’ cock jump and Derek smirk at him before he moved to stand.

“My turn, I think?” Peter said, his usual smirk in place.

Rather than sitting down to bring Stiles across his lap like the rest of them had done, he motioned for Stiles to bend back over the bed which, with a blatant eye roll, he did. (Scott did not miss, however, that his cock was now fully hard.)

“Hm, where to begin?” Peter asked outloud, and contemplated the ass in front of him. Without warning, he brought one hand down hard on Stiles’ left cheek, immediately bringing a shout and leaving behind first a white, then a bright red hand print.

Rather than being upset with the rough treatment of his son, the Sheriff smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said.

Peter smiled back, and kicked Stiles’ feet wider so that his legs were spread, parting his cheeks so that just a glimpse of his hole could be seen.

“Ah, there’s my favorite cunt,” Peter cooed, eliciting a whimper from Stiles that no one took for objection. Moving to the side, Peter raised his hand again, this time catching both cheeks with the forceful spank. 

Stiles shouted and jolted his chest up off the bed. Peter, however, pressed a hand down on his shoulders, making his chest press back into the bed, even as he calmly said, “Now, now, ass up like a good boy.”

Stiles obligingly raised his ass again into position and waited for the next spanks.

The next three Peter didn’t bother to space out, but in rapid succession placed each on first the right, left, then right side of Stiles’ ass, just on the underside of his cheeks where Scott knew it would hurt more. The last slap, in fact, actually elicited a quiet sob from Stiles, which impressed everyone in the room: normally it took at least two full rounds before Stiles gave in to crying, partly because it egged his spankers on, as well. Scott, himself, knew that he always wanted to try and make Stiles sob for him, once he heard the first one.

John leaned down as Peter moved back, as if checking to see if Stiles was okay, and he did pat his hair and whisper to him, but Scott distinctly heard the words “slut” and “pussy,” and saw John pinch the already red skin of his left ass cheek, which made Stiles whimper.

“Daddy, I want to come,” Stiles pleaded.

“You will, baby,” John said, kissing his cheek. “But your ass needs a little more warming, doesn’t it?”

Stiles nodded and looked back at Chris.

“You’re next, Chris,” John said, rising up.

Chris stood, as if mesmerized, and didn’t seem to even be aware he’d been rubbing himself through the front of his pants. He blinked quickly, though, and moved forward.

He moved Stiles across his lap, perhaps not with the same ease of the werewolves, but certainly without a problem, then started to rub his hands across what Scott was sure was very warm ass cheeks.

“You like this, Stiles,” he asked quietly, rubbing and pinching as he went. 

“Mmm-hm,” Stiles moaned, as though he couldn’t speak anymore.

Dammit, Scott thought to himself, certain he was about to lose. Stiles loved it when they talked to him, especially if they degraded him just a little. Chris was sure to win if he said something like–

“Seems like a lot of rough treatment for such a pretty pussy,” Chris said, as if in sympathy, a finger sneaking between the slightly parted cheeks as he gently moved one leg off onto the floor so Stiles was spread wider.

Scott moaned in defeat even as John said, “Hey, now, no penetration!”

Chris looked up and smiled at John, but continued to rub between Stiles’ cheeks. “I’m not going to put anything in him,” he said, then paused. “Yet.” He spread Stiles’ cheeks wider so they all got a clear look at Stiles’ tight pucker. Scott knew he wasn’t the only one leaning forward.

“I just want to see the prize. Well, that is a pretty pussy hole, isn’t it?” he said again to Stiles, still lightly rubbing one finger across that hole without ever pushing through it, lightly glistening from the lube John put there before the game.

“Are you wet, honey?” Chris asked Stiles, who replied with a “Uh-huh” then raised his ass as if begging to have it filled.

“No, no, you know the rules,” Chris said, then brought his hand down in quick succession twice.

Scott gasped as Stiles’ cried out, body jerking, and he would have thought that had done it, that Stiles had climaxed, but it didn’t smell right.

“Oh, it is prettier red, I have to admit that,” Chris said, smiling down at the ass on his lap. He brought his hand down a third time.

Stiles whimpered, but raised his ass again.

The fourth slap came down with a loud crack and a cry from Stiles.

“One more, baby,” Chris said, and brought his hand down a fifth time. Scott saw the tips of his fingers graze Stiles’ hole, which was likely what caused the long, continuous sob from Stiles that time, as well as the long stream of precum leaking from him. But he still didn’t come, much to the amazement of the others.

Chris, possibly sensing that Stiles was in no shape to stand, rolled him over carefully onto the bed, Stiles whimpering between sobs as he tried not to roll onto his back.

“Impressive,“ Peter said, shaking Chris’ hand. Chris seemed nonplussed, but took it.

“Isaac, you’re up again,” John said gently.

“You don’t get a turn?” Chris asked.

John smiled back at him. “I can spank Stiles any time–“

“–and does,” Peter said.

“–this is for guests,” John insisted, ignoring Peter. He nodded at Isaac again. 

Isaac, if it were possible, looked even more nervous than before, and laid what Scott thought must have been the most feather-light spanks ever given in quick succession against Stiles’ now very red ass.

“And now Scott again,” John said, waving him forward.

Scott looked down at his best friend, lying panting on his front, ass cherry red, and thought he couldn’t wait any more. He leaned down and said directly into Stiles ear, “Spread your legs.” Stiles did so without question, once more spreading his asscheeks in the processs, exposing just a little of his hole.

Scott stood to the side of him and braced one hand on Stiles’ lower back. He thought he wouldn’t get this chance when he saw what Chris appeared to be doing, and he couldn’t risk another round. He knew Stiles’ weakness, what Stiles had confessed to him the other night, and he knew that Stiles would not be able to hold out much longer. And he couldn’t take another year of watching Peter take what Scott hadn’t even gotten to try yet.

The first four hits had hardly any force, would likely not even be called spanks. They were light slaps, mostly with his middle finger, but they all connected directly with Stiles’ anus, and Scott could feel his best friend shake with the impacts, as if ready to fly apart.

For his last spank, he breathed deeply, took a second, then brought his hand down in a full spank, directly on Stiles’ hole.

The result was instant and explosive. Stiles cried out and his body shook, his hole spasming for everyone to see while his cock exploded on the bedspread and the floor beneath him.

“Wow,” Scott said as he watched Stiles convulse, his orgasm followed by aftershocks as Scott stood up and took the congratulations of the others. 

“That was something,” John said proudly shaking his hand.

“Thanks,” Scott said, blushing slightly with pride.

“Yes, well done,” Peter said, practically through clenched teeth. Scott tried not to smirk, but Derek didn’t even try to hide his rolling eyes, as he pushed his uncle out the door. “I’m pretty sure I warmed him up for you,” he said over his shoulder, even as they headed back downstairs.

“No, I think that was you,” Scott said to Chris and shook his hand.

“Hm,” Chris said, licking his lips as he watched Stiles, still recovering on the bed, but shifted his eyes over to Isaac with a speculative look. 

Isaac, for his part, seemed to not know whether to look at Stiles’ ass or Chris’ hands.

“Why…don’t we go downstairs, Isaac?” Chris said to his foster son, and guided him out the door.

Scott wondered if Stiles would be the only one riding a dick before the end of the game today.

“Well, son,” John said to Scott, still watching Stiles as he caught his breath. “You won fair and square. I hope you wished for something good.”

Scott had forgotten he was supposed to wish for something, and quickly sent out a thought for enough money to cover his mom’s bills, just in case it worked.

“Come on, Stiles, time to give Scott his prize,” John said.

Stiles, looking almost fully recovered, came to his feet just a little less steadily than normal and stood in front of Scott. 

“Um, hi,” Scott said, suddenly feeling shy again.

Stiles rolled his eyes but smiled at him. “Hi,” he said sarcastically. Then he dropped to his knees.

“Oh,” Scott couldn’t help saying, as his best friend opened his fly and fished out his already hard cock. Stiles didn’t even hesitate as he took the cock in front of him into his mouth and began to gently suck.

This wasn’t entirely new for them. When they’d been younger, when Scott had started thinking about girls and Stiles about boys and neither of them sure of what they should do, Stiles had somehow convinced him to let him see Scott’s dick. It’s what Stiles credited as when he knew he would only ever love dick, as he liked to say. 

But they hadn’t done this in years and they’d never gotten farther than that. Scott had found girls and Stiles had found his dad (and whatever male his dad okayed), and that was that.

But now Stiles was there, taking him all the way down his throat (and fuck, wasn’t that as awesome as it always looked in porn), and it was all just a precursor for Scott getting to fuck him.

“That’s my boy,” John said, and Scott opened his eyes, startled that he’d forgotten John was in the room. John, though, just looked fondly down at his son sucking his best friend’s cock, and patted him on the head.

“So,” John said to Scott as Stiles continued to get him wet enough to slide into his ass, “halftime should be almost over, and we should head downstairs. Do you want to use Stiles’ collar and leash?” he asked.

Scott glanced over to the hook by the door of the bedroom where the items were hanging. He’d seen John lead Stiles around town on it, normally when Stiles had been grounded after some particularly rebellious incident, but it was also an optional part of the Thanksgiving tradition at Chez Stilinski. Scott flashed back again to last year, and Peter not only leading Stiles down the stairs by his leash but making him crawl all the way from the bedroom into the living room on all fours “like a good puppy should,” according to Peter. Stiles had later told Scott he thought it was humiliating and hot, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to punch Peter in the face.

Scott thought about it for a moment more then said, “Maybe next time,” and tugged on Stiles hair to get his friend to release his cock, not wanting to shoot down Stiles’ throat before he got to fuck him.

Stiles stood with a grin, his mouth wide and wet from the blowjob, and John clapped them both on the shoulders. “Well, boys,” John said, “ready for that second half?”

“Yes, sir,” Scott said eagerly, and followed them out and down the stairs to the living room where he could already hear the football announcers describing the set-up of the first play. As he watched Stiles’ red and already bruising ass sway before him, knowing he would soon be sinking his cock in between those cheeks, he had to admit he was more than ready.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 originally posted to Tumblr as a caption/story.
> 
> I always felt guilty for leaving Scott with blueballs, but I intend to rectify that, eventually.


End file.
